


Weight

by rednight16



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 04:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4465082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rednight16/pseuds/rednight16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her late husband's shield had always felt heavier on her back than it should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weight

Her late husband’s shield had always felt heavier on her back than it should. Aveline knew how a templar shield felt, and the memory of the first time Wesley had handed it to her burned brightly in her mind. He had smiled at her then, hefting her shield instead and beckoning her forward. “You might as well learn to use it, just in case.” At the time she never could have imagined where they would be a few years later, running for their lives from the home they had built together. Nor could she have imagined kneeling over Wesley as the Blight overtook him, forcing the dagger between their hands into his chest. Her heart had broken at the guttural sound he made, and her shoulders slumped forward slightly under the new burden she carried as she followed Hawke and his family away from the body of the man she loved.

  
Time had passed since they had come to Kirkwall, and Aveline’s new position in the guard gave her a purpose that she had lacked as a refugee. But the weight did not lessen. She learned to hide it well, straightening her shoulders and standing tall as she walked. But some days it felt as if she could not stand straight enough, and her back bowed with every step. If any of the other guards noticed, Aveline did not see it. Nor did she truly care. It was her burden, and one she would carry alone until she no longer had to.

  
Her friendship with Hawke had almost come apart at the seams the day he came to her and asked about getting her a new shield. He had meant well, Aveline knew he did, because that was just how Hawke was. But could he truly understand what it would mean for her to give up her husband’s shield in favor of another, one less personal? She would admit that over the course of time it had begun to dent and scratch, the metal taking damage so Aveline’s body did not. But was she ready? She had snapped at him almost immediately when he suggested it, unable to grapple with the idea.

“Do you have any idea what you are asking me to do?”

  
“I do Aveline, you know that.”

  
“Then you understand that it is not that simple.”

  
He had left her to her thoughts then, and it had taken days before she was able to make a decision. She had even visited the Chantry, hoping to be given some sort of sign as to what she should do. It had meant so much to Wesley, there was always the chance that she would find the answer she was seeking there. But no answer came, and she left with her head bowed. That night, she sat with the shield in her lap, running her fingers over each dent and scratch while trying to remember how many of them were her doing or Wesley’s. It was impossible to tell by now, the marks blending together seamlessly on the metal. Her index finger traced the sword etched into the middle, as if she was trying to memorize it. Wesley had told her to be strong before he died, and she had in order to keep living. He would want her to move on, to rebuild her life here so that she was happy. Aveline would see him again someday. The shield was placed against the side of her bed, and it remained there when she left the next morning to speak to Hawke.

  
Three years passed, and Aveline couldn’t tell you how many new shields she had gone through, upgrading them as her skills increased over time. But the one that remained constant was the one resting against her bed, a reminder that wasn’t quite as painful to look at as it used to be. But despite this, she could not find it in herself to get rid of the hunk of metal just yet. She still wasn’t quite ready, her heart still clinging onto the one reminder she had left. But in other ways it had begun to move on. Donnic...the guardsman had become far more present in her thoughts recently, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Would it be alright? Aveline had watched other widows remarry before, and begin to make new lives for themselves with a new husband. But she did not know if that would be possible for her. Despite her concerns, the affection continued to grow until she had to force herself not to smile too much when he was in the room. Something needed to be done about this...perhaps Hawke would be able to help. She certainly couldn't imagine anyone else giving her sound advice, especially Isabela. The wench would just laugh at her instead. She briefly touched the shield’s edge before bed that night, after months of leaving it be. She needed Wesley’s strength to get through this, and some of the confidence he always had in her.

  
Hawke did his best to help her, but in the end it was Aveline’s own hesitance that prevented anything from happening. She was close to hitting Isabela for laughing at her earlier attempts, even if they weren’t very good. It had been years since she tried to catch anyone’s attention, and Kirkwall was different from Lothering. The way people courted here...there was barely a courtship at all. Although perhaps it was just something she hadn’t quite grasped about her new home. Nevermind that Wesley had courted her, and not the other way around. She sighed, running one hand over her face. Even Fenris had looked amused, the damn elf. But she couldn’t bring herself to walk over when she saw Hawke and Donnic sitting at that table in the Hanged Man. It wasn’t right, something was missing from the picture that was causing her to hesitate. Her eyes drifted to the shield once again, and Aveline’s shoulders slumped. “Why is this so difficult, Wesley? It seemed so easy with you.”

  
This last try was the only chance Aveline believed she had left. If this didn’t work, she did not know anything else she could do to get Donnic’s attention. Their conversation on the Wounded Coast was...alright, but there was an awkwardness to it that she couldn't quite shake, and Aveline knew she was getting more nervous as time passed. Hawke, Fenris, Anders, and Isabela were doing well holding off anyone that would have otherwise interrupted her and Donnic, but her own side of the plan was just not coming together. By the time she met up with the four, it had seemed almost impossible. Of course the mage had to open his mouth then, and the look on Donnic's face before he left had her stalking ahead as they made their way back to Kirkwall. Her hands itched, looking to grasp something that was not with her. She couldn't be happy anymore. The Blight had taken the one person who understood her better than anyone, and the overwhelming hopelessness had her wishing for a group of bandits to slash her way through. Never mind that the stunt was going to not just ruin whatever relationship she had with Donnic before this, but her standing amongst the guard as well. What had she been thinking?

  
Her worries hadn't ceased during the trip back to Viscount's Keep, and by then Aveline's jaw ached from how tightly it was clenched. She was already forming apologies and excuses in her mind, looking for a way to move on past this mess and hopefully remain in good standing with everyone. Except for the one person that mattered...Donnic was never going to look at her the same way again. Hawke looked apologetic enough, and despite her annoyance with them all she knew it wasn't their fault any of this went awry. She had her own opportunities and missed them, and in truth they'd gone above and beyond to help her. The one thing Aveline wasn't expecting was a familiar voice to her right, and the small smile that Donnic gave her before asking to speak with her. It was polite, but with a warmth to it she hadn't expected. In her surprise she only had time to glance at Hawke before heading into her office, the door shutting behind the two of them. By the time they reopened the door, Aveline felt lighter than she had in years.

  
Donnic had asked about the shield the first time he saw it after they started dating, and at first Aveline hadn't known what to say. How could she explain its worth to him in a way that would show why she held onto it for so long? He'd sat down next to her on her bed as she held the shield in her lap, fingers tracing familiar grooves and dents as she spoke of her late husband. Her guardsman knew she had been married before, it wasn't something she hid, but she had never told anyone about Wesley in length. She hadn't let herself truly open up about her grief in fear that her mask would slip, and the weight on her shoulders would crush her until there was no way to move on. But the warm arm that carefully slid around her waist as tears slid down her face told her that she was no longer carrying this alone. Someone else was right next to her, relieving her of part of the burden. The next morning was the first time she was able to look at the shield and smile.

  
It was a week before her wedding when she approached Hawke, asking him to speak in private that night at his estate. The look of surprise on his face when she'd handed him the Templar shield had almost made her laugh, instead smiling gently as he took it carefully. "Aveline...are you sure?"

  
"I wouldn't give it to you if I wasn't."

  
"I know that. But this meant a lot to you, I don't want you giving it up because you think you have to."

  
"I'm not. I carry my memories of Wesley with me. You're still trying to protect me."

  
That had garnered a bright smile from Hawke and a quick comment about older brother habits, but as she watched him disappear into another room and the shield left her view she subconsciously straightened up. There was no pressure on her shoulders any longer, and Aveline knew that Wesley would be proud of her.


End file.
